


Anniversary

by Meowmix76



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood Drinking, Bloodplay, Bondage and Discipline, Dominant Castiel, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, M/M, My First Fanfic, One Shot, Painplay, Sex on a Car
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-09
Updated: 2014-03-09
Packaged: 2018-01-15 02:36:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1288081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meowmix76/pseuds/Meowmix76
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: It's Dean and Cas' anniversary. Ever trying to understand human customs and behavior, Castiel takes it upon himself to come up with the perfect anniversary present for Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anniversary

**Author's Note:**

> I've been a long-time RPer but this is my first time actually writing a fan fic, so be gentle ;) Reviews - positive or negative - are always welcome.

Cas was sitting in a park, quiet and thoughtful. He knew Dean was busy with a hunt, and he knew he would call him if he needed him. It was their anniversary today. Humans still confused him, and quite often, but he found himself agreeing with finding love being an occasion of annual celebration. Dean wasn't big on holidays of any sort, and Cas reasoned that he wouldn't be expecting anything; he was also fine with that. He was thinking – plotting, really – about what exactly would be the perfect present for Dean for their anniversary. A soft smile spreads across his features as an idea blossoms in his mind, and with the sound of fluttering wings, he was gone. 

* * *

  
  
Dean pulls the Impala into the garage at the bunker, resting his head against the seat and wearily sighing.   
  
“You okay?” Sam inquires, looking over at him with that expression of concern that Dean was beginning to loathe. He wasn't made of glass, goddammit.   
  
“I'm fine, Sam. I'm just tired.” Was the short reply, and Sam seemed to take the hint from the note of irritation in his tone, because he got out of the car, groaning slightly, and headed off to wherever the hell he was going. 'Good.' He thought, 'Me, quiet, and Baby. I'm good with this.' He closes his eyes, losing himself in the almost oppressive silence, the quiet so complete that he could hear the sound of his own listening.   
  
He had nearly dozed off before a sudden change in the sound of the quiet made him open his eyes; Cas was sitting in the front seat beside him. He doesn't startle, however; after a few years of Cas randomly popping up, he was pretty unflappable in that department. He gives his lover a tired smile, leaning in for a kiss.  God, he loved kissing Cas. His lips were so full and pliant, his mouth all wet heat,  and the things that he could do with his tongue, he decided, should be illegal in most states. The way it teased and caressed, touched and tasted, like Cas was trying to commit every detail, every change in texture and flavor of Dean's mouth to memory, just like he was doing now, a low groan escaping him, lost in Cas' mouth. When they finally came up for air, Dean felt like his brain had been mildly scrambled, but he chalked that up to the fact that most of his blood had taken a trip south.   
  
“God, you drive me crazy kissing me like that.” He remarked a bit breathlessly, nuzzling his neck before resting his head against his shoulder, smiling softly when Cas' hand found its way into his hair,  
  
“So you've said. Dean?”  
  
“Mmm, yeah, Cas?”   
  
“We should get out of the car.” Dean blinks then, his green gaze turning curious as it regarded Castiel,   
  
“Why?” He inquired, knowing his curiosity had asked the question for him before he'd spoken. The only reply he received was a somewhat cryptic smile, which served only to heighten his curiosity. After a long moment of staring, Dean straightened and got out of the car, closing the door, and a startled sound issues from him upon not only suddenly finding Cas a few inches in front of him, but by his being shoved up against the car and kissed as though his life depended on it. It was dominant, needy, and not at all requesting but simply taking, no, outright demanding. It threw his brain for a bit of a loop; he wasn't used to being kissed like that, least of all by Cas. He definitely liked it, returning the kiss eagerly, unconsciously attempting to gain dominance, only to have his every attempt predicted and thwarted. He startles slightly when he feels cloth on his face, breaking the kiss as his eyes open,   
  
“What..?” Was all he got out before Cas' hand covered his mouth, and a shiver trails along his spine at the look he was giving him; it was nearly identical to the look he'd given him when he'd covered his mouth and pinned him to the wall in the room Zach had stuck him. It demanded his silence, and as before, he gave a minute nod of agreement, and Castiel's hand departed, the cloth returning, covering his eyes and tied in place.   
  
“Stay here.” Was the command given him, and he opened his mouth a little, only to have a finger pressed to it, and he closes it again, nodding his agreement instead. He waited in the silent room after the sound of Cas' wings faded, equal parts curious and hopelessly confused. Cas had never really been the dominant party in their relationship; oh, sure, he was the pitcher nearly as often as the catcher, but there was never anything dominant about it when he did. It was always requested, albeit silently, through soft touches and imploring kisses; always respecting Dean's undisguised desire and in most cases need to have control. None of that was there this time.   
  
He had no idea how long he stood there, exactly where and how Cas left him. It felt like hours, but it was probably only about ten or fifteen minutes – funny how our perceptions of time change when a vital sensory input gets taken out of the equation. He was really having to resist the urge to fidget, or pace, or hum. But he was told to stay, and to be quiet; part of him wanted to rebel against that, but there was a much larger part that fought it down, that kept him just as he was. He jumps half out of his skin when a fingertip ran down his arm, Cas having returned silently, rather than allowing the sound of his wings alert him to his return. An amused chuckle breaks the silence, and a pair of hands rest at his waist, taking hold of his shirt and pulling it up and off before he's guided to sit on the hood of the Impala, pushed gently to lie back against the cold glass of the windshield, drawing a muted gasp from him as his back arches away from the chill, grunting quietly when it was pushed back down by a forceful hand. His shoes and socks were removed next, followed by his pants and boxers, having to repress an undignified squeak at the warm-yet-somehow-cold touch of the hood against his bare skin before he gets pulled down, his feet guided to rest on the bumper before they were spread apart.  He raised his eyebrows in surprise as he felt what seemed to be either silk or satin cords tied around his ankles, and when he heard Cas moving, he gave one an experimental wiggle, finding it bound tightly to the bumper, unable to move an inch, but not restricting his circulation, either. Then his shoulders were taken in hand and he was lifted again, stretched as far as he could possibly be, one of Cas' hands holding him there as the other slipped a cord around one of his wrists, tightening it with a tug, and a moment later his arm was pulled into full extension as the slack was taken out of the line, the process repeating with the other wrist, leaving Dean spread eagle and tied down on the hood of the car.  
  
That rebellious part of himself wanted to balk; this was the exact opposite of being in control, and the rest of him was starting to agree with it in his growing uncertainty – most of us would call it fear, but he refused to own that. He was trembling slightly, half in anticipation and half out of nerves, especially as Cas seemed to have disappeared again; he was open, exposed... vulnerable, and worse yet, helpless. He couldn't help speaking then, breaking the extremely long silence, “Cas?” He inquired softly, internally wincing at the almost childish tone of his voice. A soft, reassuring kiss was bestowed upon his temple then, fingers running through his hair and a hand stroking his side, calming him, assuring him he was safe, and he felt himself begin to relax again.  
  
“I'm here. Don't I always watch over you, Dean?” Castiel murmured into his ear, placing a light kiss on his cheek, and he nodded in response, turning his head to kiss his neck, rewarded with a soft and pleasant sigh before he moved away again. A few heartbeats passed before something cool and wet drizzled along the skin of his chest, eliciting a short, sharp gasp as he shivered a little, but the coolness was almost immediately replaced with the heat of Cas' tongue, his gasp followed in fairly short order by a groan when his tongue ran across his nipple, following the trail that had been laid out on his skin. He jumps a little when all of that delicious trail of heat was suddenly covered by something downright cold, a near-whine rising from him before the cold was soothed by Cas' tongue again, gently lapping at whatever he had graced his skin with, the warmth of his mouth feeling all the more intense for the stark contrast, making him squirm as he bites his lip, his head falling back against the hood of the car,  
  
“Nnhn, fuck..” He breathes the word, a sound of disappointment catching in his throat when Cas' tongue suddenly departs his skin, and an instant later a sharp slap was given to the side of his ass, making him gasp in surprise, “What was--” A harder slap then that drew a mewl from him, and he realized the problem – he spoke. He falls silent, and after a moment, the abused skin receives a soothing caress, Cas' tongue returning to its work, making him squirm again; though this time he dutifully keeps his silence. He was soon rewarded with a kiss, Cas' tongue sliding against his, and the taste of whipped cream and chocolate floods his mouth, drawing a moan from him as he attempted to chase his retreating tongue, but he drew away too quickly. Silence again; silence and nothing save for the feel of the cords that bound him and the hood of the car, but before he really had time to wonder, a slow, sharp streak of pain seared across his stomach, pulling a shocked cry from him as he tries in vain to move away.   
  
That was apparently the wrong thing to do – he got a hard slap on the side of his ass, hard enough to make him yelp and certain that a bruise would linger as a result, but the admonishment had the desired effect as he immediately stilled. His stomach felt on fire, and he felt the sensation of something wet slowly trickling away from the area, registering a heartbeat later that it was blood.  Then the cool again, chocolate, he realized, following the trail of the flowing blood before the coolness suddenly seemed to burn white hot as it was poured into the wound, drawing a soft cry of pleasure-pain from his lips, his toes curling as though they were trying to grasp the bumper. The feeling of Cas' tongue returned as he licked away the mixed blood and chocolate, and he sucked lightly at the wound to rid it of the chocolate, making him whine as trembles of restraint shook his muscles, fighting the instinctive urge to writhe under the assault. Then Cas blew a slow stream of air into the wound, making the nerves seem to sizzle as he groaned, biting his bottom lip again to fight down the myriad curses that wanted to roll off of his tongue. Another cut then, this one making him yelp in alarm as it ran along the inside of his thigh – though great care was taken on the part of Castiel to ensure he didn't cut deeply enough to nick the femoral artery. He hissed as Cas ran two of his fingers into the wound before moving them away, and a wet drop lighted upon Dean's lips, his tongue darting out to collect it and he shivers at the coppery tang of the taste of his blood, opening his mouth obediently to receive Cas' fingers, sucking on them as he worked his tongue across and around each digit, a moan exhaling through his nose.   
  
Cas retrieved his fingers, before long, a sigh of disappointment falling from Dean's lips as his mouth was left empty, and he blinks beneath the blindfold when he feels something against his lips, opening his mouth curiously, and it was deposited in his mouth; food, to be exact, and it took him half a heartbeat to realize it was the last thing he could think of to perfect the scenario – pecan pie. He melts against the hood of the car, the sound of Cas' soft laugh reaching his ears, and he smiles in response, opening his mouth for another bite, knowing he had to look like a baby bird, but he didn't mind that fact, especially as it got another laugh. He always did enjoy making Cas laugh. It was so rare, sometimes, to hear him do it. Another bite of the pie was obligingly deposited in his mouth and he lets out a happy little sigh, only to squeal in shock as the very sharp tip of whatever Cas had been cutting him with ran in little curlicues down his chest, around the larger wound in his stomach, and further down to his waistline, though he had the good sense to keep still. The cuts were fine, almost like he was drawing with the tip of a pencil, but they burned like fire, the occasional stir of air from their breathing and Cas' movements only sharpening the sensation, making him whimper in mingled delight and pain. This time, down went the whipped cream, but only in a small area, and the drizzle of chocolate he felt next seemed to send shock waves rippling from it as it glanced upon the open wounds in the process of accenting the cream, leaving him shuddering and his breaths shaky and shallow.   
  
“Open your mouth.” The order was given quietly, like Cas was afraid of breaking some spell within the silence, and he opened his mouth, a somewhat sharper breath drawing in through his nose as he feels what had to have been a bite of the pie trace one of the curls quite close to the cream and chocolate, and the bite was then deposited in his mouth, a humming moan of appreciation resonating in his throat at the mingled flavors, his hips wriggling fractionally by proxy, and he could almost feel Cas' smile, hearing it plainly when he spoke, “I assume you find that adequate?” Was the half-rhetorical question, and Dean gave a vigorous nod in reply. One more bite of the pie was given, treated the same as the last, before the whipped cream and chocolate was licked from his skin, the tip of his tongue now following the design he'd carved out, goosebumps following in its wake as Dean shivers and lets out almost kittenish little mewls, the sounds turning imploring as he nuzzled just above the base of his cock, which had most definitely taken an interest in the proceedings. He feels a smile against his skin, before that tongue trailed in a maddeningly slow lick along his length, teasing at the head as its tip collected the precum that had gathered, causing his hips to jerk slightly. The jerk, however, earned his ass another slap, and he moaned softly, trying to collect himself a bit better to combat the involuntary movements.   
  
After a second or two had passed, the head of his cock was slipping into Cas' mouth, his tongue licking and teasing at it as he firmly sucked, and a deep groan wrenches from Dean's chest as he grips the cords that bound his wrists, letting his nails dig into his palms to help him focus a little, his breathing already reduced to heavy pants as he was taken into the wet, hot mouth, little by little, and he felt Cas shift his mouth slightly before he took him into his throat, a gasping moan punctuating the act as his eyes drifted closed beneath the blindfold. Cas kept his tongue working the sensitive vein that ran along the underside of his cock for a moment before it stilled, and he began to swallow around Dean, his cry cutting through the air at the convulsive squeezing it resulted in, his hips bucking two or three times in spite of the slaps his ass received in response to each movement. Cas gave a quiet grunt, drawing him out of his mouth, and Dean lets out a piteous whine, earning a quiet chuckle,   
  
“I am far from done with you, Dean.” He assured him, moving to remove the bindings on his ankles, and a moment later he feels the constant pull on his arms disappear, his brows furrowing in curious confusion. This time when Cas slaps the side of his ass, it was different from a reprimand; it was more of an instruction, and he begins to roll over, hesitating until he received no dissuasion, at which point he settled onto his stomach, murring as Cas' fingers stroke his hair in approval. The tug in his arms comes back as they're secured again, and this time when his legs are bound, it's much higher up, nearly to his thighs. He wiggles experimentally, and blinks once or twice upon finding it was quite a lot harder to move like this than when he was on his back.   
  
He turns his head a bit as though peering over his shoulder, hearing an unfamiliar sound; it wasn't quite a rattle, but he couldn't place it. At first. But the second several streaks of sharp, hot pain bloomed on his back, the sound of leather slapping against his skin echoing in the room, he knew exactly what it was; Cas had found himself a whip – a cat, unless he was imagining things. He hisses in response to the pain, biting his bottom lip, and he makes a quiet, unintelligible sound as Cas trails his fingers along the welts the whip had left behind like an artist admiring his handiwork before the whip was brought down again, harder this time, drawing a cry from Dean, the harder impact causing his nerves to feel on fire. Immediately the strike was followed by several more, each drawing a more intense reaction than the last, and when he stopped, Dean was panting and whimpering, his body shaking from the mindfuck his brain was going through as it failed to really separate pleasure from pain. Soft kisses were peppered onto his back, Cas' hand soothingly stroking his side and ass, and Dean whines, the sound quiet and entreating,   
  
“What is it, Dean?” Came the inquiry quite near his head,   
  
“God... Cas.. please..” He speaks between his panting breaths, the words sounding rather disjointed,   
  
“Please?” He prompts, and Dean gives a somewhat frustrated sound before he answers,  
  
“I need you.” There was a pause before he heard the whip land on something nearby, followed by the shuffling of fabric before a finger strokes his bottom lip. He opens his mouth obligingly, and two of Cas' fingers slip into it, hearing his faint moan behind him as he sucks and licks at his fingers, ensuring he coated them well with his saliva, and they withdraw after a few moments, Cas' other hand resting in the small of Dean's back as his fingers tease his entrance, drawing an impatient growl from him, which Cas seems to see as a good sign to relent in his teasing, pressing first one, then both fingers into him, a heavy, relieved groan issuing from Dean as he slowly thrusts them, scissoring and twisting them to stretch him, curling his fingers after a time to press against his prostate, earning him a sharp and fairly loud moan as he tries to rock his hips back into him to no avail. He smiles, kissing the middle of his back as he continues to work him a bit longer before withdrawing his fingers.   
  
There was a minute or two of nothing before he feels the head of Cas' cock pressing against him, though he didn't push forward, and he whines again, “Please...” He pleads, his voice rough with need, and once more, Castiel relents, pressing slowly into him, watching the tension of frustration and restraint drain out of Dean's muscles  as he groans deeply, though there was as yet a note of impatience to it, “God...Cas... just fuck me already.” Cas stops entirely in response, and he feels the sharp sting of a well-placed slap on his ass, “Please!” He quickly adds, feeling like he was going to explode if he didn't cum soon.   
  
The emphatic addition seemed to appease Cas, as after a couple of heartbeats, he shifted his weight and sank home with one hard thrust, Dean's back arching up what little it could as his cry echos in the room, and Cas wasted no time in drawing back almost completely, pumping his hips forward again to bury himself in one fluid stroke, settling into that fast and almost brutally hard rhythm as Dean cries out with every thrust, the slap of their meeting hips winding around the echos of Dean's cries and Cas' deep groans, Dean growing progressively louder as he feels himself barreling towards release, Cas reaching around to take his cock in hand, stroking it firmly in time with his thrusts, using his precum to ease the strokes, delighting in the feel of his cock twitching and throbbing in his hand.  
  
“Cum for me, Dean.” He growls into his ear, and Dean shudders violently, holding out for only a few more thrusts before his near scream rips from his throat, spasming around Cas' length as he cums, a heady groan sounding from Cas almost immediately as he buries himself deep, a rush of heat spilling into Dean as he joins him in climax, his hips bucking a little as if he was trying to keep thrusting but couldn't quite manage it, and after a moment he moans as he slumps against Dean's back, panting heavily, causing him to shiver from his breath hitting his sweat-dampened skin. They remained like that for quite some time, both of them basking in their mutual afterglow, but before long, Cas lifted himself off of Dean's back, gently pulling out of him before he frees his wrists and legs, using his own body to support him as he still seemed rather boneless, and he removed his blindfold. Once his eyes had adjusted to the light enough, Dean rolls lazily onto his back, looking thoroughly debauched, and Cas leans in to give him a slow, deep kiss before he smiles that proud and happy little smile, “Happy anniversary, Dean.”   
  
~Fin


End file.
